


Running Out of Time

by rougix



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rougix/pseuds/rougix
Summary: Y/N falls asleep playing rdr2 and wakes up in a hotel in blackwater with no memories and nothing but a journal to tell her how she got to where she is. Trouble leads her to the Van Der Linde gang and vague memories lead her to help save Arthur.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader, Arthur Morgan/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Running Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I am a first time writer, so I apologize if it doesn't flow very smoothly! Feedback is always welcome :)
> 
> I wanted this to be like Y/N's memories are hidden in her unconscious mind, or maybe subconscious, essentially she doesn't get full memories, but rather like gut feelings that tell her something is going to happen, and the memories she gets are memories of both her modern life and her red dead life
> 
> The first chapter is only about 2,200 words, I just liked where it ended. I plan on making other chapters around 6,000 words

“Oh, thank god,” You whispered as you opened the door to your apartment. You quickly dropped your bags, locked the door, and took off your shoes. Your apartment was rather dull, nothing but a table, a bed, and a tv at the end of the bed. Your job was currently very monotonous; you were supposed to be a research assistant for a psychologist, but you just sat at a computer all day entering numbers into a computer so the principal researcher could go back through it. Countless hours of such a numbing task had you thinking of curling up in bed, playing red dead all day.

You ate leftovers from the day before, quickly changed into a baggy shirt, and resumed your game. You played for hours on end, continually worrying about Arthur’s worsening cough. Peaking at your clock, 11:42 pm, you got to Arthur’s last mission. He had just saved Abigail and learned damning information from the now-dead Agent Milton, and you knew his end was coming. You chose to help dear John escape, and Arthur fought that horrid Micah the best he could, then he took his last breath.

Tears started to gather in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were bawling, tears flowing like a river, crying Arthur’s name, wishing you could’ve done something to change his fate, to show him he truly was a good man. You peaked at your clock one more time, saw the clock strike 12, and passed out with the game left on and controller in your hand. 

You woke up feeling rather dizzy, looked down at your body and found that you were no longer in your baggy shirt, but in brown work pants, a white button-up shirt, and brown boots. Trying to understand where you were, you looked around, you were no longer in your apartment, but in a rather nice-looking room with green paisley wallpaper, a small nightstand by the bed, a warm fireplace, and a chair by one of the windows. 

“Where the hell am I?” you questioned. You got up and looked around for clues as to how you ended up here when you noticed a leather journal on the mantle above the fireplace. You flipped through the pages, it was your handwriting, yet you had no recollection of writing all the notes, journal entries, and drawings. You skimmed through the journal and found what you thought could be important to answering your question.

December 22nd, 1898

Some Italian men came knocking on my door, asking for my father. Living in Ottawa, many people, including my father, spoke French as we’re neighbours with the province of Québec. However, it’s rare to come across Italians. I wonder what they’re doing up here.

December 29th, 1898

Those same men as last week came by. I heard them yelling at my father, something about him owing them something. I hope my father’s not in trouble, my mother is sick, my sisters moved to America, and I haven’t seen my brother in years. I don’t know what I’ll do if my father is in trouble, my mother needs medicine, and we can't get any if there's no money coming in.

December 30th, 1898

My father didn’t come home this morning. I have just received news that he was a victim of a stagecoach robbery. I don’t know if this was an unfortunate coincidence or if those men did this to him, but I don’t know what to do. I miss my father dearly, and without my father, I won’t be able to buy supplies to care for my mother. Her condition keeps worsening, and I pray that she recovers.

February 6th, 1899  
My mother passed away last week. She fought so hard, but her sickness became so bad, she couldn’t eat or sleep, I miss her so much, but I’m happy she no longer has to suffer. What a horrible thing TB is. Since my father’s passing, I taught myself how to hunt using his rifle. It’s a nice gun, a Springfield. I’ve sold meat to a local butcher and the pelts to a trapper, it doesn’t make much money, but it’s enough to put a little bit of food on the table. I’m moving away soon, I don’t quite know where I’m going, but I need to get away from this city. I think I’ll go south, winters in Canada are getting to be so cold.

March 31st, 1899

I have made my way to Annesburg in New Hanover. It’s a mining town, and the conditions here are horrible. No one looks happy, the skies are always grey, and there’s always a feeling of someone watching you. I met a man named Malcolm MacIntosh. He told me that baboons caused the downfall of ancient Rome, what an odd feller. I bought a brown standardbred stallion as soon as I made it here. I got him for a pretty good price. I’ve named him biscuit; he’s been a very good horse to me so far. I plan on leaving this town as soon as possible. I think I’ll go southwest. It’s still too cold for my liking and people this far east are odd.

May 2nd, 1899

This past month I have moved twice. I stayed in Valentine for a while, but I only stayed a couple of weeks. I had to ask the sheriff about something, but he wasn’t at the Sheriff’s office, so I went to check upstairs, and I heard a damning conversation with a woman telling him he doesn’t love her, nor his wife, and then I heard a gunshot. So, I gathered my things from my hotel room and fled to Blackwater. I stopped in Strawberry on my way, and well, my horse stepped on a man’s foot, and he drew his gun, so I drew mine on him and left him dead in the streets and raced out of the town. There’s nothing really special about Blackwater, though it isn’t too bad that I feel I must leave, and I haven’t caused any trouble so far, I hope it stays that way. 

May 10th, 1899

Biscuit up and died on me a few days ago. I don’t have enough for a new horse, so I’m going to have to save up. The stablehand told me I could keep my saddle at the stables until I could afford a new horse. Hopefully, that won’t be too long. In the meantime, I’ve been helping the clerk at the general store to save up for a new one. I hope I can get back on my feet again soon.

You looked around the room and saw a satchel as well as a pen and a hat. Inside the satchel was a few dollars, a couple of oatcakes, and a photo of you and your mother. You quickly put together your things and walked down to the saloon.

“Excuse me, sir, could you tell me what the date is?”

“May 11th, 1899,” replied the bartender.

You gave him a quick nod and put on your hat as you left the saloon. As you left, the sweet smell of pastries filled the air. You looked in your bag to count how much money you had on you, it wasn’t much, but you turned and walked towards the bakery. 

Right as you passed by an alleyway, a man pulled you aside. He was tall, had chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes. You suddenly noticed him as he called your name.

“Y/N! How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

You didn’t recognize the man, but he somehow seemed to know you, you thought maybe you could ask him some questions until you noticed he reeked of alcohol, and he started looking you up and down and licking his lips. You were starting to feel uncomfortable.

You said a curt hello and started to leave when he grabbed you by your wrist. 

“Going so soon?” he pouted, a look of lust in his eyes. You harshly pulled your wrist from his grip, and when he tried to grab you again, you threw him to the ground and started beating the living daylights out of him. 

A handsome man on horseback down the street turned and looked at the commotion. He felt butterflies as he looked at the beautiful woman beating a man down to smithereens, and he signalled his horse to start trotting in your direction. 

You heard a very distinct cracking sound as you hit George’s nose. One more punch landed on his temple, and he stopped moving, you weren’t sure whether he was dead or knocked out, but you didn’t care to find out. You looked up to see a man with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and a gambler’s hat trotting over on his horse, and in the distance, you started to see some policemen running your way. 

The handsome man offered his hand, and you quickly took it, getting on the back of his horse as he signalled his horse to speed up. As soon as you were out of the city, out of danger, the man spoke up.

“That was quite the show you put on there,” he chuckled.

“He more than deserved it,” you replied.

“Whether he deserved it or not, I don’t think it’s wise of you to go back there for a bit. I can take you up to a small town just north of here called Strawberry-”

“I can’t go to Strawberry, according to my journal, I killed someone there and left him in the middle of the street. I don’t know what I can do now, my horse just died a few days ago, and I had been doing little jobs for the clerk at the general store to save up for a new one.”

“What do you mean, 'according to your journal'?” he inquired.

“It’s a long story, and I’m sure you’ll be wanting to go on your way” you replied

“I’ve got time,” he said with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. He directed his horse to a small stream, hitched his horse, and beckoned you to sit next to him against the trunk of a large tree. “Names Arthur Morgan,” he said with an outstretched hand.

“Y/N Beaumont,” you replied as you shook his hand.

“Alright, so about this journal…?”

“Well, this morning, I woke up in a place I didn’t recognize, I was in clothes I’ve never seen before, and the only things in the room that belonged to me were a satchel with a few things in it, a journal, and a fountain pen. I don’t remember anything before this morning, though I recognized the writing in my journal to be my own, and I recognized my mother in the picture in my satchel. When I read through the journal, I learned that I made it all the way here from Eastern Canada after both my parents died, just trying to get away from life, I guess. My journal says I know how to use a gun, how to hunt, but I don't think that I'll still have that ability with my memory gone. I don't know that I'll be able to survive without that knowledge and the bounties on my head. I don’t even have a horse!!”

“I don’t mean to intrude or anything… but could I read through that journal?”

“Go ahead,” you answered as you dug your journal out of your bag.

You studied his face intently as he read through your journal, you hadn’t noticed just how handsome he was before. He had blue eyes like the ocean, freckles covered his cheeks, a short, well-groomed beard and mustache covered his strong jaw, and he had plump, pink lips. You were in awe of his beauty, and you surprisingly felt recognition, as if you had met him before. 

The silence was stopped abruptly by his low, husky voice.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Okay…”

“This might be odd considering we’ve just met, but just hear me out. Come back with me, I ride with the Van Der Linde gang, and I won’t lie, we ain’t good people, but we’ll give you safety, as long as you’re willing to work. I can take you out to learn how to use a gun again, so you don’t have to be cooped up at camp all the time, and you can stay as long as you want, whether that be until you get back on your feet or forever.”

“And you’re sure I won’t be a burden to you guys?”

“As long as you’re working, I don’t see why you’d be a burden,” he laughed, a grin on his plump lips. You nodded your head and smiled as you quickly took him in for a hug. He tensed at the sudden act, but relaxed and patted you on the back as you thanked him.

He took you further south, and through thick forest, a clearing appeared with tents set up all around. The smell of campfire in the air calmed you down as Arthur got off his horse. He helped you down and led you to a large tent with a gramophone playing opera music, and a tall man with black hair slicked back a well-groomed mustache, and a red vest appeared”

“Arthur! How are y- why who’s this you’ve brought back?”


End file.
